


It was very rude from you, Will

by Alaqella



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Figging, Kink Meme, Light Bondage, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaqella/pseuds/Alaqella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even he has already admitted to the doctor he liked killing Hobbs and he wanted to kill Stammets, too, Will can’t accept he could be actually a killer. Although, he doesn't have the slightest knowledge Dr. Lecter has prepared an unconventional therapist technique for his favourite patient.</p><p>Filled for a prompt on hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org </p><p>"hannibal/will, figging, will receives"</p><p>"yep"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was very rude from you, Will

“It was very rude from you, Will,” Hannibal is eyeing him as Will crouches his shoulder apologetically.

“Doctor, I-”

“Our cooperation can only continue if we show each other respect.”

“I didn’t wish to hit you, I was angry when you approached me. My… my thoughts just can’t stop floating through my mind, it’s suffocating me as I cannot decide which one is the right one and Eldon Stammets filled me with such a rage…” he growls and throws his arms into the air again.

The man catches them effortlessly and puts them back by his sides and then lets go while looking directly into his eyes. “Do you remember how killing Hobbs felt?”

“Powerful,” he returns without thinking.

“And you didn’t gain the same feeling with Eldon Stammets, did you? You need reach your balance again. I may know something that could help you to shut your brain down for a while.”

“It sounds great, but I swear it won’t work on me. I’m insomniac for months, my brain just never stops, I don’t relax. And if you were going to offer me drugs, I’m sorry but I have to refuse.”

“I would never put you in a danger of a drug intake.”

“Than what do you have in your mind, doctor?”

“Would you be so kind and join me for dinner tonight? I can explain you the terms in details then.”

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

Stepping into Hannibal’s home for the first time is an extraordinary experience, the house it even more elegantly and neatly furnished than his office, he feels like a kid in a gallery as if he would touch something, they would smack his hand away. He feels a childish joy as his hand slides over a dark wardrobe in the hall while he’s following Hannibal into a large modern equipped kitchen and then further into a dining hall where Hannibal settles him down to a perfectly prepared table. He’s never bothered on cleaning his home regularly or doing anything similar, but he can appreciate the doctor’s obvious pleasure in details and moves around carefully not to knock something down, and feels his face blushing when he lays a cloth over his knees. He feels terrible underdressed next to him; even he put on a clean and ironed buttoned up, he definitely should take a tie too, though he hates them.

“What did you prepare for me, doctor? After you’ve reached a perfection in making scramble eggs, I expect anything but best of you.”

“Sadly,” Hannibal smirks amused, “I didn’t have enough time for gathering all ingredients I wished, but I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

“Not a fan of supermarkets?” Will teases slightly and Hannibal smiles before disappearing into a kitchen to come back a moment later with two plates hiding the content under cloches, putting one down in front of Will and taking away the cover.

“I have a very peculiar about the places I buy in,” he continues with the previous conversation. “The vegetables, the meat,” he moves on the opposite side of the table and gestures him to start eating.

“Do you have your own butcher, doctor?” Will grins and brings his head closer to the plate. “I’m able to eat practically anything, but those livers smell truly amazing. What it is, a duck?”

“You guess just right, I’m glad you like it. The little bird was still running around the backyard in this very morning.”

“And helplessly squeaking for its life? Good way how to start a conversation.”

“Do you want to change the subject? Tell me then what you found out today about the last killer.”

Will laughs into his palm and shakes his head. Hannibal instead asks him about his childhood and parents, Will is pretty sure he’s analyzing his every word and making a picture of him, but he knows he can talk about anything he wants, because the man is not going to tell to anyone. Jack is the only who knows practically everything about his job carrier and some tits and bits of his life, too. 

After he finishes his last bit and bottoms up his glass, he finds his courage to ask.

“What did you think when you said you could help me?”

Hannibal puts down his fork, swallows his bite and fixes his eyes on his face. “Simply, balancing the level of hormones in your body.”

“But,” Will hesitates and thinks for a while. “You said you would not offer me drugs, so I can think only about…”

“I’m not talking about having sexual intercourse with me either,” Hannibal strictly remarks. 

Will sucks on his breath and looks up at the ceiling groaning. “Then what?”

“I want to overfill your body with hormones to cause your brain will be bathing in a cocktail of dopamine, prolactin and endorphins as enkephalins.”

“Those are… You want to…?” He’s confused. Hannibal fills Will’s glass again from a carafe and he forgets to refuse and instead takes it again to his lips.

“I want to create a level of pain that following with pleasure will release you from thinking to just feeling.”

“Can you specify that?” Will asks carefully while lowering his eyes into his glass. Doctor gave him a short lecture of the wine choice, but he forgot it right away. He only keeps a six-pack in the bottom of his fridge, for guests he doesn’t have, but he doesn’t like drinking alcohol much, it messes with his brain and then he has a tendency to not join the ideas all together well.

“Have you ever heard of figging, Will?”

He’s glad he is not taking a sip when his hands start to tremble. “It was a,” he gulps and puts the glass down. “It was a Victorian tormenting technique?”

“Well, you can say the origin dates back into the Victorian era, but it has been practicing in certain social circles until nowadays and it doesn’t have to be use for a torture purpose.”

“And your point?”

“The reason why I’m implying this is that it can cause a temporal painful but oddly arousing sensation you are not used to. It’s entirely safe and won’t leave any marks that would be disturbing your mind later.”

“Doctor, will all due respect - I can’t accept this.” He abruptly stands up and a cloth napkin quietly falls down from his lap on the floor.

“Can’t you pay me enough attention to put it under consideration after how you were terribly rude this morning?”

“I snapped, okay? I’m sorry for it. I just can’t relax.” He takes his head into his hands and groans. “Especially when I know you’re observing my every move.”

“Is that why are you refusing my help?”

“That’s not help! It’s crossing all the professional lines I do know.”

“Will, as a doctor, I know what I’m doing. You wanted me to be your paddle; I’m suggesting you a way to get the rough sea under control. We don’t want you to snap again, right?”

“But why doing that. There are more common ways to… change the hormonal level. As you call it.” He points with his shaking hand at Hannibal across the table and then scratches his neck.

“You’ve practically answered it to yourself. I have an opposite plan in creating a setting unfamiliar to you.” 

“What about,” he starts and his face lightens with an idea. “What about you telling me how to do it and I will try it on my own later?” In the safety of his home and his darkened bedroom.

“I hope you won’t get offended, but I have to say I don’t think you are enough disciplined to apply it on yourself.”

“Why not?”

“The stimulation can become more intense than you would expect and it’ll make you fail. With my assistance we can be sure you endure the process successfully.”

“What exactly it does?”

“When a peeled and carved piece of ginger root is inserted into anus, its oil provides a memorial stinging sessions to that person.” He keeps his words simply for a change, but it feels like he’s not telling everything. And Will is too flustered to ask for details. He ran across this method while he was studying a history of tormenting procedures over the years in the world. He doesn’t know how much it could hurt and he’s definitely not fond of going under something extremely painful.

“I’ve never tried to distract myself with pain, for me it’s not that simple. People don’t touch me. I don’t like people touching me.”

“I can understand why do you find touching distracting. More intimidating than eye contact, right?”

“You’ve made me to look into your eyes, repeatedly. I don’t remember a person, other than Jack, who destroyed me this quickly like you ever before.”

“Does my touch irritate you that much?” Hannibal smiles and he is evidently pleased with himself.

“I don’t like shaking hands with people, brushing shoulders in overcrowded lifts and an image of a person, even a doctor, touching me…”

“Intimately,” Hannibal offers and he nods.

“Yes, highly intimately. You have to understand that this is about me and my privacy.”

“I agree that this is about you. And I can promise I wouldn’t land my hand on your body in a different purpose than medical.”

“So, you want to call the procedure as medical.”

“Of course, what else would you call it?”

He doesn’t have an answer for him now and watches as Hannibal puts away the white napkin from his lap, gently lays it on the table and stands up.

“Would you follow me into the living room, please?” He speaks with his eyes fixed on Will and turns to leave the room.

It’s happening too quickly. This should be the moment when Will says no, thank you and leaves. But does he? Has he learnt to trust this man enough?

When he enters the large room, he sees two pairs of black leather restrains lying on display on a dark sofa without armrests, similar to the one in the doctor’s office. A chilling washes over him from the head to toes and he tries to focus on breathing regularly. In and out, in and out. The room is only lightened by candles and it gives him a fake feeling of safety.

“May I?” Hannibal appears behind him and reaches to take off his jacket. It slides from his shoulders and the man slowly lays it over a chair. Will is standing still and staring in front of himself when Hannibal goes back to him and wants to unbutton his collar. Will steps back and shoves his hand away.

“I can do that,” he says and doesn’t look into his eyes when he lifts his shaking hands. “I really don’t why I’m doing this,” he mutters under his breath and tugs the shirt from his pants. 

“It will help you to relax.” Hannibal is calmly standing with his arm reaching out for the shirt and lays it down next to the jacket after he takes it from him. He takes off his glasses too, folds them and gives into Hannibal’s waiting hand while looking directly into his eyes. The absurd presence of another man in the room when he is stripping is something that didn’t happen to him since a tennis match two years ago when Jack convinced him to join them in a tournament and Will felt like back in high school when he was hiding in front of the jocks in a bathroom stall, terrified of changing in from of them. He didn’t have this problem with women, mostly. His doctor is a woman; even his dentist is a woman. He knows doctor Lecter is not a bully and his purpose isn’t to humiliate him, but his nervousness is from a different reason. Because when his fingers move to his belt, he feels his building erection.

He is struggling with the buckle and the button of his pants and gets desperate when he can’t open it. Hannibal’s hands move his away and he feels a heat rising into his face when he frees him in a second. Will is defenceless while Hannibal strips him from the rest of his clothes and leaves him standing naked in the middle of the room. 

He closes his eyes when the man moves and he refuses to look at him because he knows he’s taking the bounds into his hands. 

“What is the matter, Will?”

“I feel like I’m going to faint.”

“Does it fear you, to be exposed in your naked form? Or does it excite you?”

He gives the man a quick glance while shrugging his shoulders. Both.

“Can you kneel on the sofa, please?” Hannibal asks quietly.

He nods, but keeps his stare on the floor as he makes a few shy steps. A grown up man shouldn’t get this nervous, but he feels a fear of the unknown settling down in his stomach and he winces when the cold leather scrunches under his weight. 

“Is that necessary?” He is hesitating before putting his hands forward.

“You can relax better if you don’t have to think about keeping your hands down.”

He lets the man locks the cuffs around his wrist and then lifts a short chain attached under of the sofa and after Will lowers himself on his elbows, Hannibal secures his hands down. The shit is getting real when a warm hand catches his left ankle and tugs it to lock on the side and his second leg on the right. He’s tied him loosely and Will has a plenty of space to move, only he keeps his head down when a hand presses on the back of his neck. His extremely blushed face is hidden between his arms and he dares to peak an eye when Hannibal disappears back into the kitchen. Nevertheless, the man is coming back a moment later with a bowl of water. Will knows what is inside and his heart starts beating wildly in his chest. Hannibal kneels with his right leg on the sofa and absently brushes his clothed leg against Will’s giving him goose bumps.

A few cold drops fall on his lower back and he twitches when the path is coming down between his cheeks. The ginger root is solid and firm against his entrance, it’s wet and slippery. Hannibal left the tip round and thick and now he tries to press it inside. Will can’t differently than squirm under the pressure and he whines when the first part slides inside. It’s spreading him and he immediately feels a need to get it out. But Hannibal only pushes it further inside of him.

Will yanks on his bounded hands and groans, it’s a helpless try and he can’t do anything to get rid off it on his own. He actually lifts his eyes when the man emerges to stand in front of him. Hannibal settles a digital clock on a chair next to him with a thirty minutes count down. Beyond the unusual stretch he doesn’t feel anything abnormal and he thinks it maybe won’t be that bad. 

He’s wrong, terribly wrong. It doesn’t feel even like five minutes since Hannibal left him to clean the table after their dinner when he starts to feel his skin warming up. After another five minutes later it stings everywhere. He whines and when he doesn’t get an answer he makes himself lauder. A minute later, Hannibal appears at the door frame while wiping a plate with a dish towel.

His buttocks clench at the indifferent posture of him and he realises his mistake when he feels more burning coming up. It is just ten minutes, but if it gets stronger with the time… 

“Please,” he whispers against his will and Hannibal settles the plate down before coming to him. 

“What are you thinking about, Will?”

“Fire?”

“A fire in here,” he taps Will’s head with his finger. “Or here?” Hannibal slides his hand over his back, grips the ginger root and with one pull he withdraws it from him.

To his frustration the burning doesn’t stop, but it only feels worse when a cold air washes over his widened hole. 

“No, no, no,” he protests and lifts himself up when doctor shortly dips it in the bowl of water and then brings it back. 

“It’s too much,” he sobs a bit and tries to move from Hannibal’s reach that is practically impossible, but he clenches his ass at least. And that is bad, his body is paralyzed from the burning pain and he doesn’t know what to do when the man manages to push it back into him. The cold water doesn’t give him a hint of relief. He feels like crying from his incapability to fight and he knows he has to remove that thing from him. 

“Get it out, I swear,” he proceeds through his gritted teeth and tries to push it out, but he only adds more pressure and it slides deeper.

“Will, do you feel capable of deciding who should die and who should live?”

“I don’t care. Get. It. Out.”

“If you were out on the field now and in front of you would be standing a cannibal, who has killed five children and cut their organs in front of their mother’s eyes. What would you do? Would it be justified to kill him? Even if he wasn’t carrying a gun?”

“I can’t-Cops don’t shoot people, killers shoot people.”

“You are not a cop. You are a specialist.”

“It doesn’t make me an angel of justice, doctor. I can’t kill people. For god’s sake!”

“Are you convincing me or yourself?”

“Both, fuck I-”

Hannibal clicks on his tongue and his hand grips the root.

“No! I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t want to-please,” he’s muttering and shaking his head. But Hannibal moves his hand, slowly moving it in and out, making him to wriggle his ass. He checks the clock, sixteen minutes to the end.

“That’s right, we are in a half. If I wanted to be really ugly, I wouldn’t tell you how long it would take.” 

Will remembers his old training when his mentor was giving him advises how to block out pain when he’s in an action. Finding a place he feels safe; he immediately sees the doctor’s office in his mind, because it has been the only place where he could open up himself. His bed immediately covers in blood when he reaches for that thought, and an image of woman’s body pressed to him is strangely suffocating. Hannibal touches his head and he sharply takes in an air through his nose when he is back in the presence.

“Don’t go away, Will, you need submit to the pain and except you can’t fight it, but do not block it. The same way you need accept your killer’s instinct inside of your mind.”

The burning becomes that strong, he is not able to let his mind wondering again, especially when the blood from his brain transfers to his groin. He is ridiculously aroused and there isn’t any chance Hannibal doesn’t notice. He’s talking about him being a killer while Will is hanging hard between his legs. He doesn’t want to be either of it and he’s humiliated how poor his needs are.

He always wished to be a good man, helping the FBI to arrest murders, but realisation he’s nothing better than they are, strikes him down on his knees.

“I’m not innocent,” he professes.

“No, you are not in deed. Your ability to join with the criminal mind made you like killing, too, isn’t that ironic?”

“Shouldn’t you call Jack now? And tell him?” His heart speeds up as he waits up for an answer. 

“Oh, no-no, doctor-patient confidentiality binds me to keep it for myself.”

“I suspect it doesn’t apply on this case,” Will snorts and tenses when Hannibal’s hand lands on his back. It doesn’t move, just calmly reclines on his lower back. He’s adjusted to the burning from the inside and if the man didn’t put his other hand on his stomach earlier to hold him, he would fall down.

“I don’t wish you to being locked down in some brainwashing institute, my good Will. I wish to stand by your side the next time you pull the trigger. It has been a pleasure to have the opportunity of attendance at your first kill.”

“Who are you?” Will whispers more to himself.

“I’m a therapist. And your paddle,” Hannibal answers quietly and finally takes the root from him, putting it away for good.

The burning has already transformed into a form of a warm sensation, he’s not in pain anymore, only in a discomfort. Ten minutes to the end. He is left alone again and presses his face to the smooth leather, pulls his arms far forward and stretches muscles on his shoulders and back. Seven minutes. A killer. Who will kill again if he’ll get the opportunity. Five minutes. 

Hannibal is back and takes the bounds off his legs and Will shifts.

“If you defile this sofa with your body fluids, I will make you pay for that.”

Will chuckles at the unfamiliar playful tone in Hannibal’s voice. “Is that a promise or a threat? For a therapist you sound quite unfriendly.”

“People aren’t black and white, Will,” Hannibal replies laconically and releases the chain holding his hands down. “And everything always has more than one side. Kneel on the ground, please.”

Will carefully and with hissing climbs down from the sofa, Hannibal keeps the chain in his hand and he expectantly looks up to him without trying to cover himself.

“You may touch yourself,” Hannibal encourages him.

He wants to refuse, but instead he drops his arms down and wraps his right hand around his erection, turning his left hand uncomfortably. He’s rough and effective, leaves no room for teasing, but only quickly pumps into his fist. He has his eyes closed to avoid the stare and moans when his release falls on the spotless floor of Hannibal’s living room. He breathes out and breaks over the sofa while he leans his side against it. Hannibal frees his wrist after that too before straightening himself up. Will looks up at him with his head tilted from his vulnerable position on his knees.

Hannibal cups his face for a while and gives him a small smile. “I’ve allowed myself to move your clothes into a bathroom down the hall.” He points out with his hand. “I expect you to be back in fifteen minutes. We are having strawberry soufflé for dessert.”


End file.
